


King Chuckles

by MissFeral



Category: Amadeus (1984)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Party Games, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 15:45:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14381820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissFeral/pseuds/MissFeral
Summary: Antonio Salieri's POV





	King Chuckles

Oh, how I loathed that laugh. The most obnoxious noise I have ever heard. His laugh was as hideous as his music was beautiful…

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. What a remarkable little creature. No one have I ever admired and yet disliked so much as he. I will never forget that obscene grinning face and scornful laughing at my expense on that particular day. You see, I happened to be at the theater on the afternoon of a dress rehearsal. I nestled into my own dark corner of the balcony and watched the creature work his magic. He waved his arm and the orchestra came to life. Candles illuminated his muffin-like wig. In the mist of his whipping hands, Mozart turned his head upward and saw me. He smiled slightly at my glowering expression.

The enchanting music eventually ended and I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. The power of this musical genius had temporarily taken over my senses and I needed a moment to regain myself. When I started feeling normal again, that's when I got hungry, so I decided to check the kitchen for treats. Maybe I would find some tasty desserts lying around. I also needed to clear my head. Sometimes it becomes too great…the envy that consumes me when Mozart plays.

My mouth watered as I eyed the dessert trays which had been prepared early for this evening's reception, and left uncovered. Pudding with raisins, pistachio creams, fruit tarts, and mince pie. My sweet tooth got the better of me and I sampled some of the yummy goodies. I am quite partial to dessert, you know.

As I nibbled, that high-pitched giggle exploded behind me. I spun around to face the grinning composer. I swallowed hastily the victuals in my mouth and hid my hands behind my back, feeling just like a child who got caught sneaking a snack before dinner.

“Tut-tut, Salieri, no sweets for you,” Mozart teased, wagging his finger in my face.

“Oh, Herr Mozart...I did not hear you enter. You startled me.”

“Seems like you’re getting a little tubby around the waistline,” he continued to tease me.

My gaze bolted to my stomach to check if it was true. This caused Mozart to erupt in another laugh. I cringed. Did I mention how much I detest that laugh?

“Don't look so glum about it,” Mozart quipped as he picked at the sweets. “Everyone loves fat people. They're hilarious.”

Feeling embarrassed, I continued to study my belly. Had I really been gaining weight? I glared at him to indicate that his jokes were offensive to me.

I growled under my breath as Mozart let out another, “Ahahahahaha!” I swear this creature will drive me mad yet.

“If you will excuse me.” I headed toward the exit but Mozart suddenly jumped in front of me and blocked my path.

“You have no sense of humor,” he stated, folding his arms.

I kept on glaring at the strange little man. “That suites me just fine.”

“Ohhh, Antonio Salieri. Haven’t you got a funny bone in you?”

I cleared my throat. “Certainly not. All of my bones are…serious.”

Mozart laughed again, like I knew he would. This time he noticed the disgusted look on my face. He stopped smiling and cocked his head. “What's wrong, Salieri? Do you not enjoy my extraordinarily charming laughter?”

I rolled my eyes. “Please, I really must be leaving.”

“I don't think I have ever seen you laugh…or even really smile for that matter.”

“I would _love_ to laugh if I ever had a good reason for doing so,” I responded.

“Come on,” Mozart smiled, giving me a playful nudge with his elbow. “What would make you laugh? Tell me.”

I thought about it, wondering if there was possibly _anything_ funny enough to make me laugh. But there was nothing. Not anymore, now that I am a grown man. A certain creature named Amadeus was currently sucking all the amusement out of life, my life that is.

Then Mozart asked a question that made me jump.

“Are you ticklish?”

I stared at him in shock. “What…No!”

“Not even a little bit?” He asked coyly.

“No!” I said, loudly.

He continued leering at me, grinning like a lunatic and making me highly nervous.

I am unbearably ticklish. I discovered this weakness only a few weeks ago. I stayed up very late working on an opera manuscript. It was terribly past my bedtime when I finally went to sleep. The following morning I was still very sleepy, so I decided to stay in bed all day long. Then a mischievous female servant came into the room and tickled my feet. I nearly died laughing!

“Everybody is ticklish somewhere, Salieri,” Mozart said, moving too close for comfort.

I watched him and when I noticed his hand inching towards me, I instantly moved away from him. I tried not to look nervous, but it was more than obvious.

His lips curved into a smug smile, taunting me with that knowing gleam in his eye. The thought of being physically touched by Mozart was enough to make me shudder…but to be _tickled_ by him? God, how are we even having this conversation?

“I must be leaving,” I said, walking quickly away and not about to let him stop me again.

“Oh, wait a minute,” he called after me. I looked over my shoulder. This better not be a trick.

“After the show tonight I'm throwing a party in my honor. Can you come?”

“Most likely not.”

“Aww…Well, try to make it anyway. It's going to be fun.” He grinned cheekily and started picking at the dessert trays again.

I rolled my eyes and marched out the door, disgusted at the way he practically interrogated me about my ticklishness. He would not dare lay a hand on me, would he? I wondered, a twinge of fear in the pit of my stomach. No…he wouldn't.

Later that evening, after a splendid performance by Amadeus Mozart that left me almost in tears, everybody headed to the party. I carefully avoided the bustle of his crazy friends. I knew attending that party would only agitate me. Mozart’s friends loved to mindlessly laugh at his jokes about me. It's always the same punchline… _Amadeus is brilliant and Salieri sucks._ Does it hurt my feelings? Yes, it does.

After some debating, I decided to attend the party after all...dreading that Mozart was telling everyone about our awkward conversation earlier. As I approached the party hall, the raucous laughter and music could be heard clearly. People drunkenly arguing about what games to play and others cheering Mozart on as he performed some stunt. This seemed like the typical, sinful celebration these people always had. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary from what I could hear.

I walked in quietly, and immediately received eerie smiles from all the party guests.

A nervous smile briefly crossed my own face, and then I gingerly took a seat.

Mozart beamed, standing on top of a piano bench so that he towered over all the guests. “Who’s ready for a game?”

“YAY!” Everyone reacted with enthusiasm. I remained silent with my hands folded in my lap.

“May we let Antonio Salieri join in the fun?” asked a lady in a lavender wig.

I looked up in surprise as my name was mentioned.

“Of course he can join us!” Mozart exclaimed, pointing at me from across the room. I fidgeted uncomfortably as I gained the attention of all the drunken lunatics.

“In fact,” Mozart said, hopping down from the bench. “I think he will really enjoy our next game.”

“What game?!” demanded an eager crowd.

“We're going to play…Tickle Salieri!”

I gasped, and jumped out of my seat. “No, I told you! I am not!” I shouted, visibly horrified.

Everyone stared at me, including Mozart who grinned more than a little evilly. “You’re not… _what_ , Salieri?”

I swallowed painfully hard. All eyes on me...No way this was going to end well.

“I'm not t-ticklish,” I said, trying to sound calm.

“Well, maybe we can find out! What do you say, everyone?!”

“YAAAY!” came the excited response of his many friends.

I panicked, and there was no hiding it anymore. I frantically searched for a way to escape but people blocked every exit. Mozart walked over to me and he could see the fear in my eyes.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, you old farty-face,” he told me.

“You cannot do this to me,” I said, so desperate I almost pleaded with him. I pulled him aside and spoke to him in a whisper. “Especially not here…not like this. I will never live it down. Herr Mozart, you must understand.”

He looked at me. His mocking smile faded and his expression became thoughtful, even reasonable. I believe he was seriously considering letting me off the hook. I felt hopeful…

And then someone crept up behind me and banged something over my head. I fell to the floor and blacked out.

When I opened my eyes, a dozen powdered faces crowded together and leered downward at me. From the looks they were giving me, I had a feeling things were about to get worse. And there was the creature…right up in front. His considerate expression had melted away and he was back to his old, horrible self.

“Well, good morning to you,” he said with a smirk.

I tried to sit up, but couldn't. It was just as I feared. They had me tied to a wooden plank and spread across some chairs. My wrists had been bound together and tied behind my head so that I couldn’t lower my arms. My coat was gone, leaving me in only a white linen shirt. I felt cold air on the soles of my feet. I lifted my head and saw that I was barefoot! Yes…it had definitely gone from bad to _much_ worse.

“Make him laugh! Make him laugh!” everyone chanted as Mozart approached me with wiggling fingers and a wicked grin.

“Don’t tickle me!” I fought madly against the ropes that held me down. His friends laughed at my fearful struggling which only added to my humiliation. I finally lay back and accepted my fate. _Maybe if I can resist laughing they will give up and let me go. Even if I do laugh, I must NOT beg for mercy. No matter how bad it gets. That is the final bit of dignity that I refuse to lose._

Mozart plunged into my ribs without warning, causing me to flinch violently and almost yelp. I clamped my mouth shut and jiggled with held-back laughter. I instinctively shrank away from the tickles by jerking from side to side, but his hands attacked my ribs from all around so there was no relief. He squeezed my ribs in his gentle hands, on a mission to break me.

“Come on…tickle tickle! I know that tickles!” he said, smiling.

He went for my sides. I whimpered, squirming around on the board under my back, praying for it to end. I bit down on my lip, determined to contain my laughs.

The friends shouted out every tickle spot imaginable for him to try, and he responded, “But we have all night!”

Mozart’s fingers spidered up my quivering sides until he came to my armpits, and he paused for dramatic effect…watching my fearful face as I cringed, dreading this next move.

He lightly scratched my underarms, gently pressing his fingers into the hollows. _God, no, not there!_ I thought as sweat dripped down my face. I could not hold back any longer! I started to giggle…and soon my giggles became laughter. Loud laughter.

The party guests roared. Mozart, grinning in triumph, looked over at them and let out a horrid giggle of his own.

“You found a sweet spot!” chuckled the lady in the lavender wig.

“Speaking of sweet spots…,” Mozart said, sliding his hand down to my midsection. “You know where Salieri puts all his desserts, right?”

And with that, he took my belly in his hands and applied gentle squeezes which made me squeal!

“OOOH! St…stop it! Heeheehehahaha! Oh! Hohohohahahaheehee!” I absolutely hated my laugh. Almost as much as I hated the creature’s.

He kept on tickling my stomach, getting his nimble hands right under my shirt so I had no protection. The sensation of his wild fingers on my naked belly sent me into hysterical laughter.

 _Dear God! Make it stop! I know you hate me, God, but please make him stop! I beg of you!_ I prayed in my mind as tears formed in the corners of my eyes. I would soon be pleading for mercy if this damn tickling kept up much longer. I just couldn't let these sadistic drunkards have that satisfaction.

“STOP TICKLING ME!” I yelled, doing my best to sound angry but failing miserably…I was laughing and giggling like a complete fool!

“Kitchy kitchy! Kitchy kitchy koo!” Mozart teased.

“No mercy for Salieri!” shouted a random man.

“Get his feet!” called the lavender wig lady.

“Good idea!” Mozart said, walking over to my restrained and helpless feet.

Terrified, I had to swallow a plea of mercy. I knew already how horribly ticklish my feet were, and I would NOT be able to handle it if he tickled me there.

“Why, Salieri, what are you looking so afraid for?” he asked, teasingly.

I scowled at him. “I...I am not afraid.”

He had a fiendish smile on his face. My terror was obvious. I could not stop trembling.

His friends cheering him on, the giggling Mozart pulled up a stool and made himself comfortable.

“Don't tickle my feet!” I shouted in desperation.

Mozart pulled my feet into his lap and produced a very stiff feather, the kind used to make quill pens.

“At least…go easy on the toes?”

He smirked, secured my ankles, and it began. The first strokes on the sides of my feet got me giggling. Next, he stroked my soles and I started to laugh. He smiled, letting the feather flutter over my toes and balls of my feet.

“STOOOHOHOHAHAHAHAHAP!” I shrieked, throwing back my head and banging it on the board. I felt my cheeks turning bright red.

He dragged the stiff feather up and down my bare soles in long, slow strokes.

My head whipped from side to side. I bucked wildly, slamming my back against the board as I tried desperately to escape the torturous feather on my soles. No relief came. I was completely at the creature's mercy, and everybody in the room knew it. How they jeered and laughed at poor me, chanting the sacred name of the almighty Amadeus Mozart. The party guests were his loyal subjects and he was their king.

“Let's see how much of _this_ he can take!” With that, Mozart tossed the feather and began tickling my feet with his fingers.

Mozart was a master at using his hands. He exploited my tickle spots with such fantastic skill…I would say equal to the expertise he uses when playing an instrument or conducting an orchestra. His fingers never took a rest. He started by skittering over my soles with a light touch. Then he dragged up and down with a scratching motion. He was ruthless. And the teasing! He never stopped with the baby talk.

“Ohhh, Salieri has got such ticklish feetsies! Yes, he does!” Mozart laughed, tickling between all my toes as I screamed with laughter.

“HOOHOHOHOAAAAAHAHAHAHA! NOOOO! GOD! HEEHEEHEEHEE! STOP THAT TICKLES! PA…PA…PLEASE!”

Tears rolling freely down my flushing face, I never completely lost my blurred view of Amadeus’s jovial friends. They loomed over me. I saw them as the audience members…to an execution. I was being tickled to death by King Chuckles himself.

But then he stopped tickling me. He stopped all at once.

“N-no more tickling,” I begged, both relieved and surprised that he had stopped. “Please, I can't stand anymore.”

To my amazement, he untied me from the plank and let me go. I collapsed to the hard floor, panting and in a cold sweat. I stayed on my knees for a moment, trying to regain my composure.

His friends groaned in protest. They were not pleased that he released me.

“Why did you stop?”

“That was so hilarious!”

“You should have kept tickling him.”

Mozart shook his head, raising a stern hand to silence his followers. “No, no more. I stopped because he said ‘please’. The magic word is the safe word. That's my rule.”

They respected his decision and moved on, in search of other things to pique their interest. Soon Mozart had a new game to play with them. It didn't take long to forget about me, which I am thankful for.

I searched around for my coat, stockings, and shoes. Assuming my belongings had been crudely discarded, I remained on the cold floor and checked every musty corner. I had no pride left anyway.

Then something unexpected happened. Mozart came over and he knelt down in front of me. I wanted to keep my eyes down but I glanced up briefly. He smiled a bit, and set all my belongings in front of me – coat, stockings, shoes, everything he had taken. To top it all off, he grabbed my wrist and slapped a warm strudel into my hand. This must have been his way of apologizing for torturing and humiliating me.

With a sly wink, Mozart jumped to his feet and went back to join his friends. I decided to leave at that moment, before I got caught in the middle of another party game.

All the rest of the night I could hear his heavenly symphonies in my head…as if trying to make me forget the suffering I endured. To make me forgive Amadeus Mozart for all the bad things he was.

I must admit, the tickling itself did make me feel a little better. Yes, it was torturous but afterwards it left me feeling calmer, healthier.

As I lay down for sleep, I worried that tonight’s incident would haunt me in my nightmares…terrible tickling and Mozart laughing in my face.

However, I did not have a nightmare that night. I dreamed a glorious dream of…Mozart. Not the man himself, but his music. The allure and delight found only in his music. I drifted off to sleep, imagining I had the sheets of his music bundled in my arms.

The End 

**Author's Note:**

> Well, there you have it. Salieri is ticklish and Amadeus is a tickle monster. Now don't be telling me that I made Mozart out-of-character here. I think he totally seems like the kind of person who would have a tickle fetish. In the movie anyway! So yeah, I think he's in character just fine. Salieri on the other hand? Okay...maybe he's a little out-of-character. But seriously though, that guy just needs to be tickled! 
> 
> I really like F. Murray Abraham...and he looks like a ticklish man if you ask me!


End file.
